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Hi there and welcome to LV Lizard. Before you begin reading through my stories of sex, porn stars, pimps, car sales, and of course general drunken debauchery, I would recommend that you take a few minutes to read the two links below to better understand who I am, where I’m coming from and why they call me the LV Lizard.

I frequent a bar in Fort Lauderdale almost 4 days a week. I have had sex with all of the bartenders, the shot girls, and the door girls. Well, all of them except one, but I am working on closing that daily. Not to go off topic but she is the only girl I’ve ever had completely naked bent over her own bed staring at her mirror and wouldn’t let me do a single thing but kiss her. FUCKING BITCH!

Anyway, my escapades at this bar were getting to be a bit too much, I would generally bring in a stripper, porn star, or just run of the mill friend. I would sometimes bring in my buddies and we would act like total fools while drinking our ¼ priced bottles (because I am such a good customer). Anyway, the bouncers got a little sick of how well I was treated and that before the end of the night I was generally doing one of the employees in the club and going home with another when it closed.

One night God decided to transpire against me and cast a huge black cloud over my heaven of vagina and alcohol. The night began like usual but this time I was drunk before I even got to the bar. I was with more than one girl so I didn’t bother giving much attention to the girls that worked at the bar. What’s more is that I knew the one that I haven’t had sex with was in an extra bitchy mood that night, so I stayed away. I don’t know the exact point at which I realized my world had ended, but I think it was around the time that the bill arrived. The bill was $1,200 instead of my usual $300 or so. I asked the waitress (let’s call her Jessica) why my bill was so high. Her words will forever reign down in my mind

“Because you fucked every girl here including me and you’re a complete asshole for doing so.”

This was foresight to the fact that I had never realized that the one girl I didn’t sleep with would tell everyone that I had slept with her. At which point, I guess they whipped out their note pads and started to compare lists. When they realized I had run the same game on every single one of them, all at the same time, under their very own noses, in their very own place of employment, my reign of pussy king was over!

That being said I refused to pay! At this point, a few rather large bouncers (which were obviously monsters compared to my small stature) asked me to pay my bill. Once again I declined and asked to speak to the owner, who I thought was my friend. The owner was, of course ,unavailable. I was then told I would be taken outside to the police if I did not pay. That was a risk I was willing to take in my inebriated state. “Take me outside” I said; at which time the bouncer informed me that if he took me outside he was going to drag me out and “fuck me up.”

So what do I do? I give him the finger and tell him to “fuck me up.” Not so shockingly that’s exactly what he did, FUCKED ME UP! He and his buddies tossed me around like a rag doll inside the club and punted me out of the front doors like I was a football! Now I’m outside bleeding and the pain still doesn’t stop, I’m getting hit from all sides. Surely the cops will break it up! Nope, they joined in and I ended up in handcuffs in the back seat of a cop car. The cops gave me two options: pay my bill and go home or don’t pay my bill and go to jail. They didn’t care that I was 5’8″ tall, 160 lbs, and had just gotten beaten up by a 6’3″ 250 pound monster number one and 6’3″ 250 pound monster number 2 in addition to a few nice shots from the boys in blue themselves. So what did I do?……… I paid the damn bill and signed it the way I sign everything: a scribble. The cop let me out of the cuffs and gave the bill to the bouncer who tossed it on the floor and said it wasn’t my real signature. I was taken down again HARD by the police and handcuffed. It was only after they checked my ID and saw that it was my actually signature that they let me go.

Now fast forward an hour or more later to around 4:00 a.m., (after I went to a different club to nurse my wounds with liquor) My fav bartender (the one who I had never fucked and who started the whole thing) called me to see if I was okay. She expressed her apologies and asked if I wanted to come over. I sensed another setup but as usual I was too drunk and too horny to care. I cabbed it to her house and went inside. She was wearing one of the sexiest outfits I had ever seen and my jaw dropped to the floor. I carried her up to the steps (or maybe she walked and I crawled up due to the alcohol) and took care of business in her hallway before we could even reach the bed. Only later did I find out that she had set the whole thing up so that I wouldn’t couldn’t have sex with her friends anymore, thus keeping me all to herself (yeah right).

I am still waiting for the perfect moment to get her back. Perhaps one day I will share a sex video of her and I while I make her say and do some things that would make even the most professional dirtiest porn star blush. Oh lets not forget when I got to the office the next day to share my story with a coworker.I mentioned to him that my arm and ribs hurt like hell. I lifted up my shirt and to my surprise I had the bruise of a shoe print on my arm and what looked to be several knuckle bruises on my ribs!

The moral of the story, take what you can and who you can but expect that one day it may all come crashing down, and when it does, you may as well just pay your bill unless you’re stupid like me andor have a blog to share the story on.

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This story does not involve women or anything particularly wild, but it’s a story I was just thinking about today when talking with my old friend/boss who we called Tuna. Tuna is the guy who taught me everything I know in the car business. I sat next to him from the day I started to the day he left which was around a year total. Monday through Saturday 9:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. I was with Tuna, and on Sundays I was with his family for Sunday football BBQ. Tuna grew to be sort of like a father or big brother to me and the day he decided to leave literally shook me up more then I could have imagined. Tuna was known as a real serious guy but he couldn’t help becoming a jokester around me. I really don’t think anyone can help acting like a complete fool around me because I just bring the fun out in people.

This is almost a story of the boy who cried wolf but the outcome could have been a lot more dangerous. One particularly hot summer day, Tuna decided to get in and drive a trade-in we had acquired. The trade-in was one of those odd looking Chevrolet SSR convertible trucks, it was new and innovative at the time. Tuna had taken the car around the block and then parked it back in its original spot. I went out to see if I could take it for a spin and Tuna shooed me away. I figured he was on the phone or just having a bad morning so I went back inside.

After about five minutes, I noticed that Tuna was not back in the office so I asked one of the other guys where he was. Dave replied that he had no idea but he would go check on it. He came back a minute later laughing hysterically, saying that Tuna was in the car making faces and screaming. We all figured he was on the phone with his wife or his girlfriend or for that matter both at the same time. Dave and I decided to go out there and make faces back at Tuna. After a little while, we went back inside as it looked like we were only elevating the situation and making Tuna even more upset.

Another few minutes later, we hear a loud banging noise and then glass shattering. Not knowing what it was, and not taking any chances as shootings and explosions have become common at out dealership, we decided to hunker down and lay low. It was at that exact moment that our detail guy ran in and screamed “Tuna just broke the window and is on the concrete, I dont think he is breathing.” Automatically everyone inside assumes the worst: Tuna just got shot! No one wanted to go out there to verify if he did actually get shot for fear that they would be next. As I said earlier, Tuna and I had grown extremely close and without thinking I ran to his aid. When I got to his side I didn’t notice any blood only pools of sweat soaking his shirt. I could not understand what possibly could have happened, or why Tuna was not moving. I decided it was best not to move him, and by this point the police and ambulance had arrived and told me to step back. I don’t know exactly what they did but they got him to wake up instantly. Upon waking up, he yelled the words “Dave, Lizard, I am going to kill you” and then passed right back out.

Dave and I had zero idea what he meant, but being that Tuna was a large guy with a short fuse, I think Dave and I were happy he passed back out…looking back on that, it was probably an evil thought to have. The ambulance whisked Tuna away to the hospital before any other malicious thoughts could creep into our heads! At the hospital we learned that Tuna had suffered from heat stroke and dehydration but that he was okay. When we walked into the room where he was he was sleeping, I decided to wake him up in true LV Lizard fashion…TUNA, WAKE THE **** UP BITCH! and he woke up just like that! When we asked Tuna what happened, all he could say is that when he gets out of the hospital he was going to kick our asses! After five minutes of threats, we learned that Tuna had somehow locked himself in the car. When I initially thought that he shooed me away, he was actually motioning for me to unlock the door from the outside. When he was making faces at Dave, they were faces of helplessness and his motions to Dave were misconstrued as playful instead of disastrous. Tuna’s last hope was to kick the window out with his last ounce of strength, climb out, and hope someone came to his rescue. That was not the last time that Tuna almost died, but it was definitely the closest he had come.

In true LV Lizard fashion, I made fun of him daily for a whole month! That being said, about a month later I was sitting in a Testarossa after just taking it for a drive when Tuna and Dave walked up and held both doors shut with all their strength. I was locked in for what felt like forever, and was drenched in sweat. I felt like I was being cooked inside an oven. The fact that I am a Jew should entitle me to never have to feel that way, but lo and behold here I was in a Ferrari oven. I could not get out and I knew I couldn’t break the window, so here I was stuck. All of my teasing and taunting came right back in my face and I was finally let out of the car to Tuna saying “now you know how it feels” with a huge smile on his face.

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In Florida (as in most states) car dealers get special license plates. In Florida it says DEALER on the bottom of the plate instead of the county that issues the plate.

I was rolling in South Beach in a Ferrari F430 with the top down feeling like a king. All of a sudden, a guy runs out to the street, stops me, and says (In front of a huge crowd) “DAMMMMN BOY HOW MANY DRUGS YOU GOTTA DEAL TO GET DEALER ON YO PLATES!” To this day everytime I am putting on a dealer plate I think of that guy and laugh.

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Those who know me know that I’m a very impatient person and that having to wait in line drives me nuts. It is the main reason why I refuse to go food shopping: people are way to slow with their carts and then you wait in line and the person at the register moves your products at the speed of a 400 lb turtle. Afterward you get to the bagger who cant seem to put the products in the bag correctly or promptly due to being mentally challenged! Not that there is anything wrong with that, I am all for the fact that Publix employs challenged people, however I’m just too impatient to deal with it, so I make others food shop for me. Anyway, before I go off on a rant of being impatient how about you all just take my word for it.

Here’s a play-by-play of my experience trying to vote on election day: I get to the polls at around 9:00 a.m., no doubt still drunk from the night before, or at the very least with a massive hang over and back ache from sleeping on a lazy boy chair with whatever her name was. The line was long to say the least. There was no way in hell I was waiting in it, but there was also no way in hell I was going to come all the way back out to vote later. I was clearly in the wrong place and very obviously stood out like a cotton ball in a sea of color. The voters were clearly not voting for my choice and the line was way too long, so I devised a plan to skip the line.

As I looked around, I saw that the poll workers all had on ID badges attached to lanyards around their necks. I thought PERFECT, my CCW permit is attached to a lanyard in my car and it looks like a government ID! For those out of the loop, a CCW is a concealed weapons permit. Yes, the lizard carries a gun! Read the rest »

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As you know, I just got back from a trip to LA. I booked my flight a month in advance which is rare for me because my trips are usually spur of the moment which causes me to pay double the price for absolutely no reason. This time, however, I put my Jewish blood to great use and searched around for the best deal possible. I searched and searched and finally found a good deal, but of course it was on a major airline that I am no longer allowed to fly on called JET BLUE! I am also not allowed to fly US AIR, but they have not officially put me on the “do not fly list” like JetBlue has. US AIR just red-flagged me.

You must be thinking “Lizard are you a terrorist? Have you threatened to light your shoes on fire? Have you brought a box cutter on a plane?” NO, I have not done any of those things and I am most certainly not a terrorist (except maybe to women). I love America, in fact I don’t even think I am allowed to leave America do to some incidents in Canada and Mexico. I know that actually makes me seem even more like a terrorist, but let me clarify. I am not a terrorist, I am an alcoholic (which is what makes me so fun in my eyes). That being said, there are two things I hate in life with a passion: the dentist and flying! In order to fly, I need to have a massive amount of pills and an even greater amount of alcohol. If I am not blackout drunk before boarding the plane, there is no way I’m boarding it.

I know what you’re thinking: “Lizard you ride Lambos and Ferraris why not fly on a private jet?” Not a chance, private Jets are scarier smaller than regular planes and I have tried and failed miserably. In fact, my good friend is the president of a very large Fractional Jet ownership company and has invited me on two trips with him in some beautiful jets. The first trip ended with him saying “Don’t do that ever again, you’ll get me fired!” the second and last trip ended with “I can’t believe you did that again, you cant fly with us anymore!”

Me on a G4 with a Famous Basketball Player

There was even a time where a client told me he would send a plane for me so we could go to the Bahamas all expenses paid and he sent a twin-engine propeller 310. I refused to go as soon as the plane touched down knowing that one of two things would happen: I would have to get so drunk that I would believe in my heart I could fly the plane and I would bring us down in a blaze of drunken glory OR I would get so drunk that mid-air I would wake up from my passed out state and freak out punching the pilot in the face, going down wondering how I could have been so stupid as to knock the pilot out. Either way the flight would have ended with me dieing and although I have walked out of some near death experiences unscathed, I don’t think the lizard would survive a plane crash.

Me with the Twin-Engine 300

Needless to say I tried my hardest to get to the perfect level of drunk to board the plane but it didn’t work. I got to a belligerent level and argued with the pilot, tossed my luggage down the runway and told him to fetch. I then called my client and yelled at him for trying to kill me and told him that I never wanted to speak to him again. Three days later my client came to Miami where I was at and bought a 47-foot Fountain Lighting Race boat from me and we blasted off to the Bahamas!

Now that I went off on a total tangent, let me get back to why I was banned from JetBlue. It was 2005 and I wasn’t even 21 yet. I was traveling to LA with two of my friends who were very large, tattooed, muscle bound, young, and wealthy clients of mine. The flight was spur of the moment, and the only flight we could get on was coach three in a row JetBlue. I was smashed between these guys who towered over me. One of the guys I was with who we will call Scott, is a very wealthy young client of mine whose family started a very prominent business and also owns over 30 clubs and restaurants around the US. Scott loves Jack Daniels so we sat in the airport parking lot downing Jack and stuffing Xanax into our mouths. I did it to calm myself down for the flight at hand, Scott and Mike did it because they were fucking crazy.

Anyway I was finally drunk enough to try and board the flight and got a wonderful Idea, (as you know by now all my wonderful ideas when drunk end in disaster). Scott and Mike were both 6’4″, 300LBs of muscle with tattoos head to toe. I am 5’8″ and Skinny. I decided from the time we boarded the plane to start complaining that I had to sit in between these “giant assholes” and demand to be moved to first class. I yelled, I screamed, I may have even let out a few fake tears.

In my drunken state I felt that no one was listening to me, so in order to be heard I started throwing food. I then poured the mini liquor bottles all over myself, Scott, and Mike and yelled out “look these big mother fuckers are making me spill my drink!” I demanded more mini bottles and the flight attendant said that I was not allowed to have any more liquor. Telling the lizard he cant have alcohol is like poking the incredible hulk with a stick, you just shouldn’t do it. It sent me into a drunk range during which I started a full-on food fight. Peanuts, Chips, and Pretzels were flying everywhere. It got to the point where Scott and Mike were not having fun anymore and they tried to tie me up with my seat belt. I decided that there wasn’t enough of a mess all around us, so I took all of the leftover food, tossed it at my feet, and started jumping up and down stomping it into bits and pieces

The next thing I remember is waking up tied to my seat with Scott’s, Mike’s and my own seat belts strapping me down and cops all around me. Had we landed? Yep we had and I was informed that I would not be placed under arrest, but that I was no longer allowed to fly Jet Blue. I figured there was no way they could actually ban me from an airline until a few weeks later when I got an official letter banning me from the airline. I currently have the letter framed in my office next too a few pictures of me in some Jets and a picture of me next to the infamous 310, however I took the time to scan it for you guys. I may be the only person in history to have a letter as great as this!

The Mess I Caused on JetBlue

…and the letter that resulted from it

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I was hoping to have a post about my shenanigans in FLOSS ANGELES ready for you guys, but the reality is that I am still in the process of piecing it together from the accounts of my friends since I wasn’t sober for most of it.

The next morning Nick called to explain what had happened. I scared the shit out of her with my gun and she liked me and “didn’t want to move too fast with me.” GREAT I get the party favor to fall in love so she wants to take it slow. Nick also informed me that he had a surprise coming from California for me, a porn star we will call Jersey. Now I was all set to turn the negative into a positive. I thought great, Stephanie loves me, I can at least score a three some out of this. The First moment I met Jersey we clicked. I picked her up from the airport with Stephanie riding shotgun. Had Stephanie not been there, I would have taken Jersey in the back seat of my car in the airport parking lot. From the moment Jersey got into the car I sensed tension with Stephanie, but I didn’t quite realize why. Later that night back at Nick’s house, I sensed that Stephanie did not like me talking to Jersey so I decided to split them up — Jersey on the patio and Stephanie on the couch. I split my time evenly between the two. I sat inside and played around with Stephanie and then I sat outside and played around with Jersey. I decided that Jersey was the one that I wanted and I was going in for the kill when she stopped me and said “I would love to **** you but Stephanie said I can’t and that she really likes you.” So now I’m sitting here with the only loyal porn star on the face of the earth who I am dieing to **** and fifteen feet from me is a porn star so in love that she wants to take it slow with a guy that doesn’t even like her! I decided to drink my problems away and come up with a new plan.

I don’t remember the plan, but what I do remember about that night is Read the rest »

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I would love to jump right into the topic at hand but I first need to let you guys know about the JewC and the magic it seems to bring to strippers and porn stars. The JewC has an amazing ability to make women fall in love and obey every word I say. Sometimes I don’t even need to take the JewC out for it to have its magic effect and meeting Stephanie was one such example.

It started a little over a year and a half ago when I first met Nick. He invited me over to his house to meet with his roommate, a very well-known porn star in Florida that we will call Stephanie. Nick has also coined her the nickname “Party Favor”, as you can pass her around like she is a party favor. The girl LOVES sex. I don’t know a single man that has met her (besides Nick) that hasn’t had sex with her. Bear in mind that it’s not Nick’s fault that he hasn’t had sex with Stephanie; his girlfriend lives with him as well and is best friends with her. If you have ever met Nick’s girlfriend, you would know that having sex with her best friend would be a quick shortcut to getting your dick cut off and thrown in the woods like John Bobbit.

Stephanie really isn’t my type of girl. It is a well known fact that I have not hooked up with a girl without fake boobs unless I was too drunk to realize the boobs were real. Even then, the boobs would have to be large enough to justify my drunken brain thinking they were fake. That being said, Stephanie does not have fake boobs or large boobs, but Read the rest »

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In typical fashion I come home from a long day of work ready to unwind, read a bit, drink a bit, and get ready to go out. I walk into my house and a naked girl greets me at my front door. I would have taken her right to my downstairs bedroom, but I heard more voices upstairs so I went to investigate. Upon reaching the second floor, I see Nick (a friend of mine in the porn business) snapping photos of another naked girl. At that point, I learned that there was another girl who is no doubt naked on my third floor. I figured I would pick one and go to my room. Little did I know that all three were ready to play.

I quickly came up with what I thought was a marvelous idea…Viagra! Read the rest »

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Keep in mind I’m drunk still and its 8:48 in the AM so this may not be the greatest told story but it is a great story nonetheless

So my buddy who happens to be one of my biggest clients as well as one of the largest rednecks I have ever met calls me last night wondering what I am doing. Now to understand this guy, he calls me ten times a day / night I call him the President of NASCAR, I have sold him countless cars I have even brokered a hooker to drive from Tampa to North Carolina for an over under bet. I scored 1,000 because I got her to do the deed for only 4,000! That being said my client told me to let him talk to all my girls last night five of them to be exact. Well the phone cut off on me and the girls were upset they did not get to talk to the president of NASCAR.

I hopped on the phone and texted my buddy Peter and asked him if he wanted to play a great joke on some women. Peter was up for the challenge, but we could not figure out who he could say he was. I thought Leo DiCaprio but Peter said Josh Hartnett. I figure he has a crush on Josh and that’s why he picked him but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I changed his name in my phone from Peter to Josh Hartnett and set me phone in-between the pack of women and I went outside. A minute later, the girls are yelling to me that my phone is ringing. I said who is it and one of the girls says “OMG Josh Hartnett, like THE josh Hartnett?” I yelled “Pick it up Pick it up!”

Peter was on his A Game! I guess he had googled Josh Hartnett and knew everything abut the dude because out of all the girls that talked to him, one of them was asking question upon question and Peter had all the right answers. Even so the girl was still 90% that who she was talking to was Josh and 10% that it was total bullshit. Even so, she cornered me in the bathroom Read the rest »

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